


Rumor Has It

by Zavijah



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Game Related Violence, Gossip Boy, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Yearning, angst with happy ending, blowjob, handjob, season 7, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zavijah/pseuds/Zavijah
Summary: ‘It’s the simple things in life’ his mother would say. Well, Elliott was fairly sure it was something she would say, or had said in the past. Whatever. It sounded like something she’d say and, in the end, that’s what mattered. Right? Not that he had to justify it to anyone. Nope. Not even Renee, who had given him a flat look she always did as she handed over the tabloid magazines.At least she had stopped asking him why he read them.It wasn’t anyone’s business that he liked to have a drink or two and delve into the world of celebrity gossip. It was worth a good laugh and god did he need something to lighten his mood.Now featuring art from @TBGKaru
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 24
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

‘It’s the simple things in life’ his mother would say. Well, Elliott was fairly sure it was something she would say, or had said in the past. Whatever. It sounded like something she’d say and, in the end, that’s what mattered. Right? Not that he had to justify it to anyone. Nope. Not even Renee, who had given him a flat look she always did as she handed over the tabloid magazines.

At least she had stopped asking him why he read them.

It wasn’t anyone’s business that he liked to have a drink or two and delve into the world of celebrity gossip. It was worth a good laugh and god did he need something to lighten his mood. The nurse he’d hired to check in with his mother had sent him a text, informing him that his mother was having a bad day. And there he was, several planets away, unable to do anything but let his anxiety eat through him like acid. His mother wasn’t answering his calls and —

Whatever.

 _Whatever_.

He couldn’t think about that. Wouldn’t think about that. Everything would be okay. He’d just — not think about it.

The hotel was mid-tier, smack dab in the middle of the hustle bustle of the city sprawling below the floating wonder that was Olympus. Elliott stood on the small balcony connected to his room, trashy magazines in one hand, a pair of beers in the other. He could see Olympus on the horizon, glinting orange with the setting sun. As contemptuous as it was wondrous; only the elite had ever known its ivory paths and genetically enhanced flora. Up there, the sky was crisp and the air fresh. It was a slice of heaven, vibrant and serene, and had its head so far up its own ass that Elliott wanted to hate it.

He didn’t; couldn’t after he’d been given a taste of its tailored beauty.

His gaze lowered the grimy haze of the city. He sat, kicking his feet up on the balcony rail, and straightened the tabloids in his lap. The beers were set on the round table, next to the phone he was both willfully ignoring and paying rapt attention to. He’d left enough messages, VIA texts and voicemails, urging his mother to call him, all he could do now was wait it out and, in the meantime, distract himself with trashy articles.

“Alright Gossip Boy, what do you have for me today?”

He opened the top magazine, last month’s issue, and thumbed through the usual extravagant lives of the wealthy. Space yachts and weddings featuring champagne waterfalls. Elliott was a celebrity, but he was small potatoes compared to the E-class citizens that could rent out a whole moon for a private getaway. It took several scandalous articles before Elliott found the section dedicated to the Legends of the Apex Games.

A full glossy shot of Hammond’s rocket ship filled the page.

> Why _hello_ there, big fella. Where are you going so quick without so much as a hello? Tch. Hammond Labs is being _super_ tight-lipped about this, but you know me, my little chico-dees, and I heard from a friend of a friend that this girthy beauty is headed to the land of the rich and famous. It’s so unfair, _I know_ , but I will do my best to keep you all on the up and up!

The next page featured a series of shots of Ramya Parekh, Elliott’s nemesis turned roommate, and who Gossip Boy wasn’t entirely sold on.

> No one likes a grease monkey more than me, but could someone please: Help. This. Girl. Out. She needs a makeover and fast! S.O.S Loba! (you should remember Ms. Andrade from the exclusive tour she gave us of her shoe closet. Those heels were _to die_ for.) Help this poor girl! If her tooth gap were any wider I’d mistaken her for the coin slot on a vending machine! And that _hair_ , don’t even get me started! Oh, but get this, apparently our new gum-smacking princess was hand picked to join the games. _Private Invitation_. I don’t know about all of you, but I’m going keep a nervous eye on this crazy chica.

The article ended without even a side mention of him, a minor annoyance in regards to his stocks. Free publicity was great, even if it was his name smack dab in the middle of a scandal. If it pushed a little extra money his way, helping to keep his bar afloat and his mother comfy for a few months, he’d gladly feed into the rumor mill.

Elliott slid the magazine aside while finishing off his beer. He cracked the second one open while looking over the cover of the last magazine. It was only a week old and amid the front page smattering of celebrity news, in the bottom left corner, the curly text inside a bubbly pink heart caught his attention. _Is Love in the Air? - Is Apex heart throb no longer a bachelor? pg. 37_

“Eureka.” Elliott shook open the magazine and sunk further into his chair.

> Get out your hankies boys and girls, because long time bachelor Mirage looks to be officially off the market. Our drone cams picked up this shot of our lover boy gifting a bouquet of wrenches to none other than fellow Legend Rampart. Color me surprised but, fellas, maybe she’s as crazy between the sheets as she is the arena ( _GrrRrawr_ ). This comes on the heels of spotting our boy buying a room’s worth of roses that sent Wraith stomping off. Guess we know who the flowers were for and who got jealous! Goodbye Miraith and hello Ram-rage! Oh to be a fly-cam on that drop ship!

While it was disturbing to know the paparazzi had captured several candid photos of him, at least he looked good in all of them. The shot of him handing Ramya the wrenches did look suggestive. He’d dressed for the occasion — a button-up and vest over tailored slacks — because he’d thought Ramya would get a kick out of it. She had found it downright hilarious and, just like that, they were back on good terms, sparring with words instead of him dodging her gun outside of the arena.

She’d turned around and pranked him by arranging with Hammond Engineering to fill his drop ship quarters with manure. Frankly, Elliott had been impressed, It reminded him of some of the epic-level pranks his brother used to pull which made him all that more fond of her. She was like the sister he never had. He liked her, but not in the way the pictures suggested. But, if their supposed budding romance earned him a two-page spread in one of the more popular magazines, he’d roll with it.

He turned the page and nearly choked on his beer at the full-page shot of Crypto and Natalie. The camera had caught them in a hallway while amid some dispute. Natalie’s arms were crossed, her expression pure ice while Crypto’s was pinched in frustration. His hand was extended, articulating the word his mouth hung open on. The bottom of the page had only one caption: _Is this young love on the rocks?_

“What?” Elliott’s stomach rolled like a boat capsizing under a sudden, nauseating swell. He turned the page and found two more story-boarding the progression of events. Natalie turning away, chin held proudly in the air. The distance growing between them with each step. Crypto watching her go, his face a mix between angry and kicked in the gut. It ended with Crypto looking directly at the drone cam then disappearing behind the corner.

When the hell had that happened? Seriously? Natalie and… _Crypto?_

> Uh oh! Our cutie Crypto has been keeping this on the DL. He might be good with computers, but it seems he has a lot to learn about women! Don’t you worry, Chico Sawtelle is on the case and I will personally be on the hunt for the truth behind this secret romance turned heart-break!

“No, that’s — “ Elliott flipped the page for more, but found nothing. It had to be wrong. He hadn’t picked up on any vibes between the two at all. Granted, he wasn’t entirely observant all the time but — well, wait, Crypto _had_ been out of sorts since the whole spy accusations. Elliott had assumed it was a matter of pride. Crypto seemed obsessed about privacy and security, so getting his own drone hacked right under his nose had been a humbling event. But, apparently, there had been more going on during that whole fiasco?

Elliott went over the photographs again, frowning.

He felt ill because —

“He got a whole 3-page spread!” Elliott proclaimed to Renee the next day, on the drop ship, when she confronted him about his dour mood. She gave him an odd look and he procured the magazine he’d been worrying over since last night. “Look!”

Renee rolled her eyes at the article. “Seriously, Elliott?”

He snatched the magazine back and studied the photographs. Crypto looked so hurt when Natalie had walked away from him. There was no other way to interpret the scene. Elliott had tried, but every story he fabricated to go along with the tell-tale images failed to trump the conclusion Gossip Boy had immortalized in a public article.

“You’re friends with Natalie, does she talk about — about — “ Elliott’s gaze slid toward Crypto’s quarters, unsurprised to find the hacker sitting in front of his computer, idly tapping away while frowning at the screen.

As if sensing the stare, Crypto looked in Elliott’s direction.

Pulse jumping, Elliott snapped his attention back to Renee and dropped into a whisper. “ _Three pages?_ I only got two! What do they see in him besides _nerd?_ ”

“I’m not doing this with you.” Renee massaged at her temple while stepping away from his quarters. “You’re going to have to figure this one out on your own.”

“What does that — there’s nothing to _figure out_ — “ but she was already gone, leaving him more confused than he had been last night. He stalked into his quarters and tossed the magazine aside. He’d just wanted to know if Natalie and Crypto really had been — or were — seeing each other, that’s all. It baffled him. Hell, it even had Chico Sawtelle curious enough to —

“That’s it!” Elliott snapped his fingers and, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging in his quarters, pointed knowingly at his reflection. Sawtelle would kill for an inside scoop. Elliott nodded to the thought. If he investigated the mystery between Crypto and Natalie, he could then hit up Sawtelle for an exclusive tell-all. Yeah. It was perfect. He’d wrest back his little corner of popularity and also figure out why their secret tryst made him feel as if he’d swallowed a slug.

The ship lights flashed red. `”Drop zone approaching.”`

“Show time.” Elliott winked at his reflection before moving toward the belly of the drop ship. Caution stripes marked the individual squad platforms. Above the gathering crowd of Legends, the assignment screens flickered to life. Elliott searched for his banner and, upon finding it smack between Natatlie’s and Crypto’s, his heart flopped like a fish tossed onto dry land.

It was an opportunity to snoop for prime-time gossip, yet Elliott’s stomach curled up on itself as he stepped onto the platform. Crypto quietly joined on his left, his back turned toward him. On his right Natalie bounced on her heels, smiling. Elliott looked from one to the other while a tension squeezed at his chest like a boa constrictor.

The platform shuttered as it lowered and Elliott’s heart raced like it hadn’t since his qualifying matches.

“Where should we go?” Natalie asked over the rush of wind.

Olympus stretched out below them, a gentle spread of green lined with ivory and glints of gold. It was an odd place. Beautiful, but odd. The houses were hardly bigger than the ones on the planet’s surface. Enlightenment through minimalism, or so Elliott mused. Living there sounded lonely. He often wondered what the people did with their free time. Meditate? There wasn’t much to do up there in the Utopia aside from work on scientific marvels and walk the paths edged with genetically enhanced greenery.

Elliott’s scouting gaze caught on a splash of colors, the patterned floral oval of the Garden District, and it gave him an idea. “Follow me!”

He stepped over the edge before they could disagree.

The Garden District was set up like a castle; ringed with the crystal waters of a moat and tall boundary walls. The inner walls were shorter, separating the heart of the district from the marble walking paths. Elliott angled toward the outer ring, landing next to the wall masked with fuchsia forever-bloom flowers. Vine filled arches connected the tall wall with the smaller, inner wall, the latter laden with white flowers. Petals dotted the ivory pathway in between the walls, creating a corridor fit enough for a wedding aisle.

Elliott landed, the thrusters from his jump pack sending the petals tumbling away. He spread his arms, turning like a showman presenting the stage while his squad mates landed nearby. As the petals settled, Elliott grinned at the other two. “Perfect for a date. Am I right, or am I right?”

Crypto’s eyes flicked off to the side, annoyed, and he walked off without a word.

“It _is_ pretty here,” Natalie said.

At least someone appreciated it. Elliott smiled at her while his eyes strayed, watching Crypto disappear toward the housing units. So melodramatic. Natalie was such a ray of sunshine in comparison. Was it a case of opposites attract? No, they weren’t quite opposite — were they? _He_ was more of Crytpo’s opposite than Natalie. Sort of. Maybe.

Elliott scratched at his beard as he considered the two, raking his mind for a plausible scenario where the two had made a connection. The idea of Crypto even spending enough time with someone — _outside of the games_ — was, well, Elliott couldn’t help but feel slighted. He’d made it clear that everyone was welcome at the Paradise Lounge. First drinks on him! Yet Crypto had remained as elusive and enigmatic as ever.

How had Natalie lured him out?

She was a sweet girl; had a face like a doll, the kind with big blue eyes and a smile that made her cheeks bunch up like apples. It kinda freaked Elliott out to be honest. Dolls gave him the creeps. Maybe Crypto liked dolls? No, wait, that was wrong. Crypto liked Natalie, not dolls. Well, maybe he liked both. Elliott didn’t know. God, he didn’t know anything about Crypto. What was his favorite color? Did he like movies? Was he a rainy day kind of guy? Cats or Dogs? What did he see in Natalie? Was it the blonde hair? The blue eyes?

“Elliott?” Natalie touched his arm, startling him.

“Does Crypto like — “ His thoughts scattered like birds, leaving his mind empty. His eyes wandered, searching for them, and settled on the botanical wall beside him. “Flowers?”

Something strange happened to Natalie’s baby doll face. Her eyes narrowed to waspish slits and her lips pressed into a thin line. The doll became a viper and Elliott leaned away from her and pressed his back into the wall of flowers.

“I do not want to talk about Crypto,” She said, as firm and cold as a lake iced over.

“ _Psh_.” Fuchsia petals rained over Elliott as he slid to one side to gain some space. “I don’t want to talk about him either. I was just, uh, like — yeah, screw that guy and his… grumpy… face… “

She didn’t look convinced and, hell, he didn’t feel all that convinced, but she left it alone. Her stormy gaze cut away and she moved on to gather gear. Elliott debated his options before heading in Crypto’s direction, toward an animosity that was familiar to him. Compared to Natalie, Crypto’s biting words were more of a nuzzling nibble on the neck. Or, wait — Elliott squinted at the thought as he walked into one of the houses, then stopped completely as the words evolved into imagery. Crypto’s lips pressed against —

Goosebumps tapered down Elliott’s spine as he touched at the side of his neck. That was…

“Mirage.”

Just a stray thought…

“ _Witt_.”

“Huh?” Elliott blinked away the daydream.

“You don’t even have a gun yet,” Crypto stated, vexed.

“What? Yes I do. I have, uh — “ He hurried to search his side of the room while internally cursing at himself. _Get your head in the game, El-idiot, or you’re going home in a body bag. If they even bother sending bodies home._ An overlooked shotgun pistol sat on the bookshelf, left because it was near useless. Elliott checked it for rounds before pivoting and showcasing it for Crypto. “Got a Mozambique.”

Crypto huffed and looked away as his lips twitched into an almost smile. Just a trick of the light shifting across his face, or so Elliott told the butterflies invading his stomach. Whatever. It didn’t mean anything. He made people smile and laugh all the time. They were laughing at him, but it read the same in his book.

“And armor?” Crypto prompted.

“Uh,” Elliott broke his stare and visually swept the room. Finding nothing, he sighed. “Give a guy a break, would ya? We just landed.”

“We have company!” Natalie chirruped as she burst into the room. She pulled the extending poles of her portable fencing from her pack and began fortifying the space.

“We _just landed_ ,” Elliott repeated.

Gunfire burst through the window and Elliott threw himself against the wall beneath it. Natalie and Crypto did the same against the opposite wall, huddling together in the corner not visible to the shooter. Crypto’s face disappeared behind a holographic screen as he sent his drone out to scout. Natalie calmly checked her ammunition while peeking out the window nearest to her. Elliott turned his pistol over in his hands, frowning.

Outside, more gunfire sounded and the ground shook from a grenade blast.

“Two squads,” Crypto reported, eyes on the screen while his hands rapidly twisted at the cube controlling his drone’s movements.

“Do you think they overbooked the reservations?” Elliott joked, but no one chuckled. “Because, you know, it’s such a hot spot to take a date.”

The hail of gunfire exchanging between the two enemy squads drowned out Elliott’s attempt to lighten the mood. Bullets tore into the wall, sending chips of paint and fabricated wood raining down on them. Another grenade shook the walls and a pair of books fell from the shelves. One thumped to the floor next to Elliott. He stared at it then turned his gaze at the shelving unit he was pressed against. It was filled with books, knick-knacks, and several framed photographs. It had been someone’s home, not some prop house. Whoever had lived there had left in a hurry.

A stray bullet caught one of the pictures, shattering the glass and knocking it over.

Was that what war looked like?

Elliott held up the book, wondering where his brothers had fought all those years ago. Had they huddled inside someone’s abandoned house while the militia fired at them? While a titan stomped passed? Had they found pictures of happy lives collecting dust under plaster and bullet casings? Where had they died, or been abandoned, so far away from home?

Elliott wanted to go home.

He wanted to call his mom, but she wasn’t answering — she wasn’t —

“Grenade!” Natalie shouted.

It bounced in through the broken window. _Tink. Tink._ Elliott kicked it into the cubicle on the far side of the open room, the shower stall, before flattening himself against the floor and covering his head. The world burst with noise and movement, then dimmed to a droll ringing and a dizzying, tunneling view.

Elliott rolled onto his side, groaning. His nerves crackled with aftershocks of the blast, but he was pleased to report that everything felt to be in working order. The haze of smoke and dust scratched at his lungs and he coughed as he raised onto his knees. Natalie was squashed in the corner with Crypto shielding her from the blast.

Elliott staggered to his feet, staring at them, and a loneliness yawned opened inside of him. The hole had always been there but it was easy to ignore if he didn’t look at it directly. If he didn’t lean over the edge and stare into the dark, bottomless depth. If he didn’t suddenly want to take the plunge and put an end to the constant ache of carrying it inside of him.

The ringing pitched higher before fading. Elliott shook himself and searched the floor for his gun.

“Alright.” He needed to get out of there before the bleakness swallowed him whole. “You two love birds stay here.”

Natalie’s big eyes regarded him. “What are you going to do?”

“Distract them. Maybe lead them away.”

“You don’t have any armor,” Crypto needlessly reminded him.

Elliott shrugged. “Better than sitting in here like — like — like things that sit here and get shot.”

“ _Witt_.”

For a guy that barely cracked a smile, Crypto could pack a lot of emotion into a single word. Annoyance, exasperation, and, hidden beneath, Elliott swore he heard something else. Something nameless that always hooked into his heart and momentarily jerked him away from the gravity of despair. It cut through the bluster, the mirages, and for one fleeting moment, Elliott felt seen. From his deeply seeded flaws to his bleeding heart, he felt exposed.

“Besides, I won’t be alone.” Elliott stepped toward the door with the confidence of an actor knowing his cue. As soon as he passed the threshold, he activated his holograms and sent them running. He glanced back at his squad mates and winked. “Let’s just hope they shoot them and not me.”

They did, and then they didn’t. Escaping hadn’t been part of the plan, if there had been a plan at all. Elliott improvised. He went as far as his holographic ruse allowed before turning and firing at the nearest shooter. The spray of pellets from the Mozambique dealt more annoyance than harm. But, oh, Elliott knew how to be annoying, knew how to make people so fed up they’d chase him down just to _shut him up_.

He shot. He ran. He shot again. His holograms saved him a few bullets, but eventually their clean facade failed to match his bloodied jumpsuit and tell-tale limp. Bleeding and running out of cover, Elliott stumbled along the marble path, marring the ivory with gummy, red boot prints. He pulled himself around the tall outer wall and sank to the ground.

Soft grass pressed against his palms. Flower petals gathered in his wounds. A breeze passed through and the mosaic plates of grass ahead of him shifted into a mint green sea.

Elliott watched the grassy waves as a pair of footsteps drew closer. He didn’t need to look to know who it was, the blood trail he’d left had been obvious enough. Elliott smiled, tasting iron, and tossed aside his empty pistol. “Can’t fool you, can I.”

“You fought well today,” Bloodhound said.

“Not well enough,” Elliott muttered, eyes on the sea of green.

The blade was quick and sharp, sliding between his ribs with one harsh thrust. He barely felt it though he grunted on reflex. As Bloodhound pulled back, Elliott gazed down at his chest, at the stream of blood and stained petals.

“Rest now,” Bloodhound said while tilting his head back to lean against the wall of flowers.

The sky was blue, serene and careless of the gunfire below. A pair of birds flitted past. The wind billowed with warmth as it caressed his face, offering the gentle scent of flowers. Elliott closed his eyes and hoped, not for the first time, to never wake from that darkening moment of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, Kudos and Comments always appreciated! They keep me writing <3  
> [@ZavijahWrites](https://twitter.com/zavijahwrites)


	2. Chapter 2

Elliott woke to the sound of a chair scraping across the floor.

Cracking open his eyes revealed an off-white ceiling and walls hung with medical equipment. Steel against white, and white on white and a blue so pale it might as well have been white too. All together a rather dull heaven after the vibrancy of Olympus.

“Mirage has a new move,” Renee recited, her droll tone a poor substitute for Gossip Boy’s playful canter. She adjusted the tablet she held and read on. “I’m dubbing this one: ‘the Shining Knight’. Not very original, I know, but hear me out: Our boy might have been knocked out early, but he did it to save love.”

“I did _what?_ ” Elliott snatched the tablet from her hands and poured over the freshly posted article.

The pictures told the tale of his daring game of fox and hound with the enemy squads before ending with a final shot of him slumped against the wall, eyes closed and a smattering of blood and petals down his chest. The hairs on the back of Elliott’s neck rose as he swallowed down the scratchy lump forming in his throat. Seeing his quasi-death was surreal and a discomfort gathered in his chest like shards of broken glass being pieced back together to reveal an ugly truth.

He swiped to the next page, eager to get away from the disorienting swell of emotions.

The next series of photos detailed Crypto’s and Natalie’s escape. They stuck close and worked flawlessly together (or so the article read). When the fight had ended, they had found Elliott. The last picture showed Crypto’s hand on Natalie’s arm, pulling her away from the scene.

“With our knight’s end, the ice melted from around Crypto and Wattson — oh what a load of crap.” Elliott thrust the tablet at Renee.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She went back to the first set of photos. “More gossip?”

The heroic shots of him fighting off two squads to save his own were great for his fan base. He’d be eating from that dish for months. Yet it caught in his chest like smoke. He felt queasy, out of breath, and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

“They won, by the way. Your stats went down, but you got another win.” Renee slipped the tablet into her pack and stood, patting a set of his clothes she’d placed on the nearby stand. “The nurse is coming to discharge you. I’ve got errands to run, but there’s a cab waiting to take you back to the hotel. Think you can handle that?”

“Not that complicated,” Elliott muttered.

She paused by the foot of his bed and it caught Elliott’s attention. Her expression was blank, as it so often was, but he could sense there was something caught on the tip of her tongue. It passed unsaid and she headed for the door. “I’ll check with you later.”

He was dressed by the time the nurse came by with his discharge papers and a prescription for painkillers. The good kind, he noted as he stared at the scribbled writing. The slip of paper felt like a lead weight in his hand. He stuffed it into his pocket and signed the paperwork, comforted by the fact his contract with the games meant they’d foot his medical bill. Not without cutting a bit from his paycheck, but at least it was one bill he didn’t have to stress over, unlike his mother’s bills.

His eyes widened and he patted down his pockets, looking for his phone. He needed to call her, let her know he was okay before she happened across any of the replays or saw those damn pictures. A search turned out his wallet, but not his phone. It had to be back at the hotel, or so Elliott hoped as he rushed out, sneakers squeaking against the hallway tiles.

A single cab waited outside, just as Renee had said. Elliott climbed in, shut the door, and belatedly realized it was occupied. “Oh sorry.” He fumbled with the door handle. “I thought this was my — Crypto?”

The bulky white jacket was gone. In its place Crypto wore a black one with the same high collar that masked his profile. Gone were the shin guards and packs used in the arena, leaving him in a simple pair of pants and running shoes. He’d added a ball cap to the mix, but Elliott only needed a glimpse to know it was him. The cybernetic graft along his neck and jaw helped, as did the tangle of necklaces.

“Uh — “ Elliott began, eloquently.

“Sunset Hotel,” Crypto said to the driver. The man nodded and Crypto tapped at the glass, prompting the privacy screen to flicker into place. The cab pulled away from the curb with a lurch.

After a block of awkward silence, Elliott cleared his throat. “I guess we’re riding back together…?“

Crypto, head bent over his phone, said nothing. Elliott waited another full block before trying again, but was waylaid by the cab’s electronics hiccuping. A blip in the system, oddly timed with the motion of Crypto lowering his phone and glaring at Elliott from under the brim of his cap. “You’re an idiot.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before.” Elliott rolled his eyes to the side window. “Maybe next time you should try leading with ‘Hey Mirage, you’re so awesome, thanks for the win’ — _You’re welcome_ , by the way.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

 _That_. The intentional vagueness from Crypto wasn’t unusual, but it was irritating. And, in no mood to be lectured, Elliott feigned ignorance, knowing it would test at Crypto’s patience. “I shouldn’t have gotten shot at? In a blood sport? Really? Or, do you mean I shouldn’t have given you and Nat — “

“You shouldn’t have left,” Crypto snapped. “You didn’t have any armor. You could have… “

Death was a risk they all took every time they stepped into the ring. Elliott tried not to think about it too much because it resulted in uncomfortable conversations. Elliott shook his head to himself and watched through the window as the city drifted past. A window advertisement caught his attention, jerking his head around to keep the image of sandwiches in sight. His stomach grumbled with complaints. “I’m hungry, you wanna stop and get some — “

“ _Witt_.” Again that tone, calling him on his bullshit, on his attempt to wiggle out of a serious conversation.

“What do you care?” Elliott whirled around, annoyed. He was tired, sore, and his thoughts a tangled mess of wires. “You got the win, you got the girl — what do you care?”

“I don’t!” Crypto growled back like a dog having been backed into a corner.

“Exactly,” Elliott said, making his point even if the victory of it left him feeling hollow. “You know, I expect the second degree from Renee or Ajay — hell, maybe even Ramya — but from _you?_ ”

Crypto glared out his own window, his jaw flexing with the retort he bit back. Several beats and two blocks passed before the tension in his countenance smoothed enough for him to speak. His words were soft but laced with frustration. “I didn’t ask you to do it.”

“No one asks another person to — to — “ Sacrifice themselves? The words tasted bitter with self-righteousness. Elliott gestured at the space between them, returning the vagueness, not caring what conclusion Crypto made of the non-answer.

“Why did you do it?”

Elliott made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. It was like talking to Pathfinder who struggled to understand the confusing motivation behind the crazy things humans did despite possessing common sense. The problem laid in trying to simplify an answer that was a rickety, conflicting conglomerate of several different answers. All of them true, yet all of them failing to answer the question on their own.

“Because, unlike you,” Elliott mumbled. “I care.”

Crypto’s glare shifted from the window to pierce into Elliott. “About everyone except yourself?”

There it was again, the insight that saw past the mirage Elliott projected. It seemed to be happening more often as of late. The illusion was fading and, judging by the look on Crypto’s face, it wasn’t a pretty image to behold. Elliott shrugged it off the best he could. “I cared about winning, and we did, so — whatever.”

He didn’t want to have that talk with anyone, not even himself. Elliott knocked on the window separating them from the driver and the privacy screen flickered off. Elliott jerked his thumb at the side window. “Let me out here.”

“Elliott,” Crypto sighed. “Wait — “

“You should take Nat out.” His chest felt too tight to even breath, but he squeezed the words out anyway. The cab shuttered as it slowed and hovered closer to the curb. “To celebrate your win, you know? And — flowers. I bet she likes flowers.”

As soon as the cab stopped, Elliott bailed. Crypto called after him, but he didn’t look back. The crowd swallowed him and, for a while, he enjoyed the anonymity of it. He didn’t have to put forth the ruse and he could just be himself — his miserable, flawed self — and no one batted an eye.

He turned into the business thoroughfare he’d seen from the taxi and searched the hanging signs for an escape. Anything to keep himself from thinking too much. A bar would do. Or — his hand closed around the prescription slip in his pocket and his last moments in the ring drifted to the forefront of his mind. The quiet, peaceful waves of green ahead of him and the open sky above him. Tranquilizers mimicked that serenity. A fuzzy, medicated peace he could float on until he found his bearings.

Elliott settled on pizza instead and enjoyed it until people started recognizing him.

After a few pictures and autographs and a smile that felt all wrong, Elliott took his pizza to go and walked back to the hotel. It was dark by the time he entered through the front doors. The desk attendant looked eagerly at him, but Elliott merely waved and headed straight for the elevators on the far end of the lobby.

A pair of dangling legs caught his attention. Over the arm of one of the waiting couches, Ramya’s sneakers bounced with a restlessness similar to Octane’s stim induced twitches.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Ramya groused as soon as she saw him.

Elliott lifted the pizza box in lieu of an explanation and soldiered on. Ramya’s sneakers hit the tiled floor with a squeak. She bounded up next to him and pilfered a slice. He didn’t think anything of it, other than to give her a feigned huff of annoyance. She joined him on the elevator. Odd. Elliott glanced side-long at her, but didn’t question it. The seventh floor was theirs, rented out for the Legends for the duration of the games. Their home sweet home for the next few weeks.

“Do you have any beer to go with this pizza?” Ramya asked, pushing into his room after he’d opened the door.

Elliott blinked, unable to explain away Ramya’s continued presence. Sitting together in the downstairs bar was the natural course of their friendship. It was like hanging out in the Paradise Lounge. Having her raid his mini-fridge then sit cross-legged on his bed was, well, awkward. He set the pizza on the dresser while arching a questioning brow at her. “What’s, uh, going on?

“I assume you like movies.” She’d set her pizza slice on the bed to reach for the tv remote. “Comedies, I’d wager, and likely not very good ones.”

She was being nice, at least what qualified as nice in her book, and it made him suspicious. Was it her way of flirting? His stomach turned at the thought. After a long moment of watching her chew noisily at the pizza and flick through the movie channels, Elliott decided that she wasn’t attempting to proposition him. If she just wanted to hang out, because she was bored, it was fine. He could use the company.

He eyed the crumbs she was leaving on the blankets. “You want a plate?”

“Nah,” Ramya said through a mouthful. “I’m good.”

Grunting in a weak show of protest, Elliott passed the bed and stepped out onto the balcony to retrieve his phone. Several missed calls appeared in the log, but none of them came from his mother or her nurse. What time was it on Solace? Did he even have a window to make an interplanetary call?

No, he found out, after dialing her number and getting only the recorded apology of an operator. He’d have to wait until tomorrow.

Elliott leaned against the rail, phone tight between his hands, and —

“Oh god, you’re not going to jump, are you?”

“What?” He straightened up and shot an incredulous look at Ramya. She had shifted to the edge of the bed, one sneaker on the floor as if ready to dash out after him. He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”

“Don’t give me that look, mate.” She resumed lounging on the bed. “I told the others you’d be right as rain after a couple drinks.”

“You told — what? Why?”

Subtlety had never been Ramya’s forte, in the arena or in person. She blew a raspberry at the ceiling and looked at him the way she often did when she thought he was being particularly slow. It seemed to be everyone’s default expression when addressing him. Probably his own damn fault for playing into the role they gave him, but damn if it didn’t dig under his skin at times.

“We saw the replays, mate,” she said.

Renee’s quiet concern in the hospital. Crypto’s pointed words in the cab. Ramya had been _waiting_ for him in the lobby. The posted article colored him in shades of valiant gold, but the truth was, the gold was tarnished. Just another shade of yellow. While he had wanted to give his squad a fighting chance, he also hadn’t cared if he made it out alive. What he had been was tired. Tired of everything spinning on and on while he struggled to find the flimsiest of footholds.

It was a mess in his head, in his heart, and — he had gotten lucky, again.

Elliot shook his head to the overwhelming thoughts. What had been a feeling then, wasn’t there anymore. It’d passed. It always passed. He swallowed back the nervous fluttering in his chest and puffed out a dismissive laugh. “I’m not suicidal.“

“That’s not how Crypto tells it.”

Elliott’s head swam, caught in a whirlpool of outrage and distress. Crypto had no right to make that call — the _wrong_ call — and then go and spread it around. Okay. Yeah. Sure. Elliott wasn’t exactly the most stable guy, he’d admit that much, but he doubted anyone that willingly participated in a bloodsport was completely right in the head. They all had their shit and he managed his own well enough. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. Certainly not Crypto’s. Besides, when did Crypto start giving a shit about anyone?

Other than Natalie.

The bitter thought reared its head and spurred him toward the door.

“Oi.” Ramya sat up as he passed the bed. “Where are you going?”

“To set the record straight,” he muttered.

She grinned. “Gonna punch him?”

Maybe. The anger inside of him, pulling his muscles taut, fed into his stride as he stalked down the hall to Crypto’s door. He pounded a fist against it, not relenting until he heard the lock turn. The door cracked open, revealing a fraction of Crypto’s glare. Upon seeing Elliott, the glare lessened somewhat and the gap widened between the door and frame.

“Ya?” Crypto asked.

It was such a soft sound, neutral instead of irritated, and the pinch between Crypto’s brows marred his scowl with concern. Elliott’s anger fizzled out. He’d never been the type to hold on to it. It took too much energy to hate things. Elliott tried for a smirk but only managed to pull together a grimace. “Suicide Watch? Seriously?”

Crypto’s expression steeled and turned away. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hn,” Crypto grunted. “I guess not.”

The door started to close and Elliott caught it at the last second — with his fingers. For a dizzying moment, Elliott stared at where they wound up wedged between the door and the frame. The pain didn’t register right away, not until Crypto jerked open the door, horrified.

“You—!” Crypto looked as pale as Elliott felt. “Why!?”

“Ow,” Elliott said in his defense and cradled his smashed fingers to his chest.

Cursing in his native tongue, Crypto seized Elliott’s hand and unfurled his fingers to survey the damage.

“Ah — fuck — “ Pain screamed along Elliott’s nerves and he nearly shoved Crypto off. He pressed the knuckles of his good hand against his lips. “Are they broke? They feel broke. Ow — _ow_ — “

“Be quiet.”

“No! It fucking _hurts!_ ”

Crypto huffed and towed Elliott inside. The door shut, casting them into darkness. Elliott caught a glimpse of drawn curtains and the haunting glow of a computer screen before being yanked into the bathroom. The light flickered on, amplified by the white-on-white walls, and Elliott squinted against the blinding glare.

“Sit down,” Crypto ordered while dumping out a first aid kit into the sink.

Elliott did, sitting on the edge of the tub and cradling his fingers while trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing pain. He studied Crypto, working up a scathing retort, but forgot it in lieu of the disheveled sight before him. Dressed in a loose v-neck and pajama bottoms, Crypto was surprisingly lean without the bulky jacket he often donned, more so without the padding of armor and strapped on supply packs. He looked tired; focused, but tired. His hair was a mess, addled by sleep or a hand that had pushed through the inky strands a dozen too many times.

Seeing Crypto so dressed down, barefoot and grumbly, was an odd treat Elliot found himself savoring. His anger further sputtered out with the amusing thought of having always thought Crypto slept with his shoes on, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

Crypto sat on the closed lid of the toilet and pulled Elliott’s hand into his lap. His expression stern but his touch gentle as he straightened out Elliott’s fingers.

Sucking in a hissing breath, Elliott leaned closer to get a better look at the damage. The skin was bruising and his knuckles felt tight with swelling. Broken, he assumed but was too afraid to ask. Given the way Crypto’s lips twisted into a displeased frown, it was a fair assessment.

Crypto grabbed a splint from the sink’s edge and slid it between Elliott’s fore and middle finger and carefully taped it into place.

 _Of course_ , Elliot thought, smirking to himself. Of course Crypto had a stash of medical supplies on hand and knew how to treat minor injuries. He was a loner; downright paranoid in Elliott’s books. While he didn’t sleep with his shoes on, he likely avoided going to a hospital for anything other than the mandatory after-match visit.

Noting the small things, Elliott smiled to himself, please to have a few more items to add to the short list of things he knew about the stoic hacker.

The splint set, Crypto turned to grab the gauze from the sink. Their knees bumped together and the contact shot through Elliott like a jolt of lightning. He tensed, suddenly overly aware of their proximity. It wasn’t the first time, but cramming into the same corner to hide from gunfire was a world apart from the tenderness in Cryptos current actions.

Elliot’s heart stumbled into double time and a warmth expanded through his chest. He looked away, but nothing could detour his attention from where his hand rested against Crypto’s thigh.

He slowly drew in and held his breath. This was neither the time, nor the place, nor the person…

Crypto began to carefully wrap his splinted fingers with gauze and Elliott peeked at his face; the scowl had softened with concentration. Elliot’s gaze traveled down the slope of Crypto’s neck to where the graft gave away to the sliver of skin visible before disappearing under the shirt. He tracked back to Crypto’s face, half hidden by the curtain of dark bangs that had fallen forward.

Elliot’s fingers twitched and he raised his good hand but, instead of brushing back the loose strands, his fingers closed around one of Crypto’s dangling necklace charms. He turned the familiar object between his fingers. “Isn’t this a data drive?”

Crypto hummed, intent on his task.

“I thought it was part of your gimmick, for the games, but you’re always wearing them.” Elliott smirked. “Is this where you keep your secrets?”

“My porn.”

Elliott blinked, his brain short circuiting as it crossed wires between the rarity of Crypto cracking a joke and the unexplored notion of him watching porn. After two full seconds of gawking, Elliott bursted into laughter. “Your — your — “ he couldn’t find enough air to form the words. The syllables sputtered and dissolved into snickers. A half-smile slipped across Crypto’s face and the sight of it made Elliot’s soul ache like a lost sailor glimpsing land after a storm.

“Must be hiding some kinky stuff on there,” Elliott teased, letting go of the drive.

“You’ll never know.”

“Don’t say that, we’ve got all night and nothing better to — to — “ Elliott’s heart screeched to a halt as his brain caught up to his run-away mouth. Embarrassment flooded up and his neck and burned in his cheeks. “Not that — that — I didn’t mean w-w-we watch porn t-together. That’s weird. Right? Yeah. I was just, uh. Uhm. Do y-you think I should go to the hospital?”

Amusement glinted in Crypto’s dark brown eyes. “For wanting to watch porn?”

“No, n-not — “ Elliott groaned and ducked his head, covering his face with his free hand. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t you mean: ‘Hey Crypto, you’re so awesome, thanks for the help’.” He narrowed a playful look on Elliott. “ _You’re welcome_ , by the way.”

“Smartass,” Elliot muttered, smiling.

Crypto hummed, satisfied, the corner of his eyes crinkling with the smile ghosting across his features. He rose and moved away to pack up the scattered supplies.

The loss of closeness was instantly felt and Elliot’s preening heart wallowed like a bird with a broken wing. His gaze fell to the bandages, neat and snug around his fingers. “Thanks,” Elliott said, heartfelt, then smirked. “But you’re also the one that broke them, so…”

“I wasn’t the idiot who used his hand instead of his foot,” Crypto smoothly countered.

“Well, knowing I’m an idiot, you shouldn’t have tried shutting the door in my face.”

Crypto glanced side-long at him while zipping up his medical bag. Instead of a rebuttal, he nodded at Elliott’s hand. “You should get some ice.”

It meant leaving. Elliott frowned and scrounged for a plausible excuse to stay. Now that he had a taste of Crypto’s company outside of the ring, away from everyone else, he wanted more of it. Elliott scuffed his shoes against the bathroom tiles, stalling,

“Here.” Crypto handed him a pair of pills.

Small and round, they sat heavy in Elliott’s palm. A prescription for a stronger medication was still folded in his back pocket. Together the two things reminded Elliott why he had decided to come to Crypto’s room in the first place.

A darkness crept over his good mood, stealing away the light like a storm blotting out the sun. Elliot stood and gently took Crypto’s wrist. Crypto tensed, but didn’t fight as Elliott turned his palm up to accept back the pills.

Elliott used his thumbs to push Crypto’s fingers over the pills. “I’m not suicidal.”

Confusion creased between Crypto’s brows as he looked from their hands to Elliott’s face. “They’re to help with the pain.”

“I know.” Elliott shrugged, aware of how his trail of connecting thoughts was often as zig-zagged as a rabbit’s run. He brushed his thumbs along Crypto’s fingers, studying the difference between the flesh fingers and the ones covered in the black, cybernetic graft. Smooth and cool to soft and warm. “But I came here to tell you that — “ the words hitched in his throat but he forced them out. “ — that I’m not going to step out in front of traffic or take a swan dive off the balcony.”

Crypto’s expression tightened. “What was I supposed to think?”

“Not really any of your business.”

He didn’t like anyone knowing that he was struggling, hard, and was utterly clueless how to fix anything other than to keep trudging forward, eyes on the horizon instead of the mess growing around him. His mother needed him and, for now, it was motivation enough for him to keep his head up.

Crypto glared at him but, more interestingly, Elliot noted, he hadn’t moved. Nor had he pulled free. He remained leaning against the counter while Elliott mapped the differing textures of his hand. The tension shifted, building as static energy that started warm at the base of Elliott’s spine and fanned out like lightning rippling across a cloud. The longer he lingered — the longer he was _allowed_ to linger — the more he understood the confusing tangle of emotions in his heart.

“Besides,” Elliott mused while his chest swelled with a budding truth. He leaned further into Crypto’s space, trapping him against the counter; his escape a simple push away.

Crypto swallowed, an audible click, but otherwise remained captured, his darkening eyes hinged on Elliott’s.

Elliott released his hand, raising his own to brushed fingers along the dark graft lining Crypto’s jaw, pausing under his chin to tilt his mouth up toward his own. “You don’t care, right?”

“I don’t,” Crypto whispered.

“Yeah,” Elliott murmured, no longer convinced. “Me neither.”

Although his heart prattled nervously against his ribs, Elliott took the gamble and closed the gap, catching Crypto’s slack lips in a kiss. It was light, a hesitant step over suspect ice, and when it proved sound, Elliott pressed harder, forming his lips around Crypto’s in a more proper kiss. He held it, caught on the electric current of it.

Crypto’s hand settled against Elliott’s sternum, causing him to pause in preparation of being shoved off. Instead Crypto’s fingers curled into his shirt. He kissed back, hesitant and with only the barest shift of lips. But it was enough. A fanfare of fireworks burst in Elliott’s chest, bright and hot and tapering along his nerves like falling stars. It felt right, more than right. It was the missing piece, a gear fallen loose but now, slotted into perspective, it spun with warmth and color and the conflicted knot in Elliott’s heart unraveled.

This. It had always been this. He’d been so green with jealousy because of it. This. _This!_ How long had he wanted this?

Crypto cupped Elliott’s jaw and drew him in for more, adding gasoline to the small fire. It sang through Elliot, hot and all-consuming. He dove for it and the crush of lips grew ravenous.

This. Elliott flattened his palm against the small of Crypto’s back, fingers dimpling into warm skin, and pulled him close while still pushing into the kiss. This.

Crypto matched his zeal, tongue for tongue, hand for hand, until, bent awkwardly against the bathroom mirror, he broke the kiss. Flushed and panting, Crypto’s eyes were dark and starry. Entangled as they were, Elliott could feel Crypto’s growing interest, hard and poorly masked by the thin pajama bottoms.

Desire pounded through Elliott’s veins. He groaned, a low rumbling sound of want and frustration, and the last of his hesitation melted like candle wax to a flame. He wanted this. Every bit of it. He wanted to taste every bit of Crypto, to memorize every inch of skin, graft and flesh, and to hear every noise. He wanted to watch as Crypto unraveled after being worked up to the edge, held there by one last, stuttering breath before tipping over.

Crypto forced him off, but only to slide off the counter and push back into his space. The kiss was hungry — starving — and Crypto’s hands were demanding as they both urged Elliott out through the bathroom door and fumbled to open the fly of his jeans.

Elliott quickly lost his shirt and did the same for Crypto. He stepped out of his pants, an awkward affair as the kiss continued, as if parting would be the wind to gutter out the roaring flame between them.

In the dark, Elliot found the bed with the back of his knees and fell with a surprised gasp. A nervous laugh bubbled up, but shied away as Elliott watched, through the silver-blue glow of the open laptop, as Crypto calmly stripped of his pants before crawling over him.

Sleek and gorgeous, Elliott ghosted his fingers along Crypto’s sides, in awe of what was happening. “I — “ Elliot began, but the words were lost as soon as he opened his mouth, stolen by a forceful kiss. He let the words go, knowing he had too many of them and often arranged them in the wrong order. He replaced them with an appreciative hum as he pulled Crypto’s body against his own.

A fire burned under skin, like lightning scorching lines under the bark of a struck tree. He felt dizzy and drunk and couldn’t get enough of the skin on skin contact.

 _This_.

Elliott lost himself to the soul-searching kisses and the torturous grinding. Hip to hip, Elliott felt every hard inch of how much Crypto wanted it — wanted _him_. Yet it wasn’t enough; lips locked and legs entangled, hands indecisive and busy. Elliott’s heart threw itself against his ribs, yearning to be taken and loved. He pulled at Crypto, vying to bring him closer still, wanting everything. His name, his secrets, his dreams, his burdens.

The junction of Crypto’s neck, where the graft gave way to skin, was of particular interest to Elliott. He mouthed along the divide, his tongue seeking the invisible seam. But under the fire, his heart ached and sought to gather the nervous, stuttering words.

Its efforts were waylaid by Crypto’s hand slipping into his underwear.

Elliot arched into the touch, his world a burning haze of friction and heat. “ _Ah_ — _fuck_ — “ Crypto kissed him, stealing the words once more, and Elliott moaned helplessly into it. Crypto drank down every sound, relentlessly stroking Elliott for more. It was eager and impatient and Elliott became swept up by the surging tide of it all, powerless to do anything but go along with the desperate current.

It was the sound of Crypto’s voice, broken as it echoed Elliott’s groans, wanting and hot against his ear, that sent Elliott unexpectedly tumbling over the edge.

He clutched at Crypto, nails digging into skin, as the waves of euphoria rippled through him. He floated on the crest of the high, aware of little more than the way Crypto nuzzled at his throat. His heart, fit to burst, basked in the sated warmth of it all.

A soft whine from Crypto, barely there in the back of his throat, drew Elliott back to the moment. He smiled and rolled on top of Crypto, kissing him, and was tempted to drag out the moment, to counter Crypto’s rush to the finish line with a lesson in delayed gratification.

His resolve to do so wavered after he peeled down Crypto’s briefs and swallowed him down.

Crypto sucked in a sharp gasp and his hands tangled with Elliott’s hair. The words spilling from his mouth were unfamiliar, a mix of praises and curses. It was the noisiest Elliott had ever heard him and _God_ did he love it. It spoke of an openness, of things Crypto had always kept hidden. It was a glimpse of who Crypto was behind the facade and Elliott wanted more.

More and more.

Elliott lived for the sound of Crypto’s breathy moans, for the way his back arched, for the final way his defense crumbled as he cried out, spilling hotly into Elliott’s mouth.

Spent and beautiful, he laid boneless on the rumpled sheets while Elliott kissed his way upward. Up the dark line below his navel, up the curve of his rib cage and the dip of his sternum, and over the tangled bramble of necklaces.

Elliot kissed him, soft and lingering, and drowned in a riptide of joy as Crypto returned the sentiment.

_This._

Afterward, cleaned and tired and with Elliott tugging at the overly snug pair of briefs Crypto had loaned him, they laid side by side in the bed, saying nothing. The laptop screen scrolled on, black and green, running a code Elliott had stared at long enough to guess at its function. He couldn’t read the Hangul, but he dealt with enough code while programming his holograms to have a baseline understanding of what was going on. The running script was sorting through incoming information, catching on keywords, and sending them elsewhere.

Searching… for what?

Elliott wondered over it while trailing his fingertips up and down Crypto’s arm. He studied the script because in the building quiet, his heart had begun to gather up the unraveled threads of uncertainty. The forming knot in his chest wasn’t as tight as it’d once been, but it still formed into a worry of what came next. Crypto hadn’t prodded him to leave, nor was he shying away from the touches, yet the moment felt fragile, hung so precariously that Elliott feared speaking would send it crashing down.

Crypto caught his hand and Elliott’s heart sank. This was it, the moment Crypto pushed him away. Instead, Crypto pulled the arm around him, pressing Elliott’s hand to his heart, and whispered, “I was worried.”

Not trusting his mouth to ruin the moment, Elliott gently kissed the back of Crypto’s neck.

“I saw your face and you looked… “ Crypto’s hold tightened. “Hopeless. Miserable.”

Elliott kissed the warm skin again, trying to soothe away the bruised quality to Crypto’s tone.

“When we found you, you looked… at peace.”

Sighing, Elliott wrapped his arms more securely around Crypto and pulled him flush. While Elliott didn’t actively seek death, he had become acquainted enough with it to know that, when his end came, he’d welcome it with open arms. He had years of allowing the wound of loneliness carve through him like a river through a valley. It’d been there for so long he didn’t know if he could ever repair the damage it had done. His brothers were gone and he was losing his mother one memory at a time. Even though Crypto laid in his arms, warm and real, Elliott knew it wasn’t enough to replace everything he’d lost. But it was something — something he didn’t want to lose but also something he feared gripping too tightly.

So he said nothing as he held Crypto and the laptop screen scrolled on and on, forever searching for an answer. Later, Elliott took the sounds of Crypto’s soft snores as an unspoken permission to stay the night. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with Crypto in his arms.

He woke at the feel of a body stirring against him and the familiar ringtone filling the room.

“ _Mwo_ ,” Crypto muttered sleepily while propping himself up onto an elbow. “What is that?”

“M’phone,” Elliott mumbled, refusing to budge from the warm bed. “My mom’s calling.”

A second later the words registered and Elliott scrambled out of bed and dove for his pants. His broken fingers screamed as he fumbled to get it out in time to answer the call. He smashed it to his ear. “Hello?”

_”Elliott?”_

“Yeah!” His heart leaped. She remembered him today. “Yeah. It’s — It’s Elliott. Hi, mom, h-how’re you?”

_”I’ve been trying to call you.”_

“I’m on — I’m — “ He sat down on the edge of the bed, his nerves rattling like loose screws. It made his lungs trembled and his words stumble. His thoughts were useless, running in circles like a hyperactive child. “I’m on Olympus rem— “ _Remember?_ The doctors said he shouldn’t use that word around her. He clenched his jaw before starting anew. “Olympus. I’m on Olympus and the signal here is terrible, something about moons and orbital rings.”

_”Are you alright? The nurse here showed me some pictures and — Elliott, what happened?”_

“Oh, you s-saw those?” He hung his head and ran fingers through his mussed hair. The nurse had been specifically told to _not_ let his mom see any of the footage from the games. It seemed obvious that pictures were also not allowed. “It’s uh — It’s — “ God, he couldn’t get his words and thoughts aligned. He sighed, shoulders slumping, then sucked in a startled breath as Crypto pressed against him from behind, arms wrapping around his torso in a loose hug.

It startled him, at first, then grounded him like an anchoring rope. Elliott leaned into the contact and the rising tide of panic receded. “I’m fine, mom — better than fine, actually. I’m great and — those pictures? — it’s their job to dress them up to boost sales.”

_”And when were you going to tell me you have a girlfriend?”_

He blinked, slow to put together the tracks of the gossip train. “Oh! _Oh_. No, mom, I don’t have a girlfriend. Ramya’s just a friend and— “ he paused, then chuckled at himself. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in those magazines.”

 _”Oh.”_ She sounded disappointed. _”Are you sure you’re alright?”_

Twisting to view Crypto’s sleepy face, Elliott couldn’t help but think he was better than he had been in a long time. “Yeah, mom. Hey? I’m going to take a shower, have some breakfast, and then call you back. Okay?”

_”Alright. Love you.”_

“Love you too.”

As the call ended, Crypto climbed off the bed. “Next time,” he said through a yawn and shuffled toward the bathroom. “Don’t bring your phone.”

Elliott smiled, clinging to the two words that sent him over the moon.

_Next time._

Crypto cleared his throat. He stood in the doorway to the bathroom, hand on the door knob. His weight shifted, nervous, then he stepped inside… leaving the door ajar. Elliott perked up at the invitation. He set his phone aside and, hearing the shower start, eagerly stripped off his borrowed underwear.

“Hey, funny question,” He mused while strolling toward the bathroom, heart impossibly light in his chest. “Do you like flowers?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback always welcomed! <3  
> [@ZavijahWrites](https://twitter.com/zavijahwrites)


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